Into the Blizzard
by brigitte51
Summary: F.A. 316. Fingon heads to Aglon in the hope of finding his sister Aredhel who disappeared mysteriously a fortnight ago. Celegorm and Curufin's welcome is somber and, even with their help, the rescue mission Fingon undertakes has but few chances of success, for winter is harsh in these lands. [Ft. Cranky Fingon and hints of romance]
1. Gone

My first fic was about Fingon and I thought he deserved another go, because this first story was so flawed...! So the idea was to keep a few things from 'Starlight' (I'm not even sure I like this title anymore) and write a new story, a short one. I did keep the same female OC, although she has undergone a few changes, and I toned down the romance a lot. The starting point was mostly (very) cranky Fingon + tons of snow (I got the idea during winter!). And... that's it (I need help to find catchier titles, I know). I assume you all have an idea of how Aredhel disappeared.

Anyhow, I hope you will enjoy this story!

All credits to Tolkien.

* * *

 **Into the Blizzard**

 **1\. Gone**

 **F.A. 316 - Pass of Aglon**

Thick snowflakes were falling from the sky, covering the frozen grounds, and the world was slowly turning white, up and down. It was not the first snow of the season, yet this time it would most likely not melt before Spring was to come, and, from the tall dark pine trees to the sleek grey walls of the mountains, the land of Aglon had become eerily silent - this Winter was bitter already.

Fingon had not been expected so soon in Celegorm and Curufin's halls, although the messenger he had sent forth to announce his arrival had fulfilled his mission days ago. Yet since then he had ridden so swiftly, in such a frightful state of emergency, that he had reached his destination a week earlier than what had could have been assumed, and he was alone.

He had departed from Hithlum with few companions – they were all archers who had chased the Dragon with him some years ago - and he had chosen to cross Dorthonion, to travel as fast as possible. He had had little rest since he had left Eithel Sirion, not caring much for sleep, and his weariness only added up to his already dark mood. He had had no patience for delays of any sorts and had ended up leaving behind those who had journeyed with him, for they had become too slow for him.

At long last he had reached the pass of Aglon and since it was early dawn, only the guards were up, and nothing they said or did could convince him to stop – they had no idea who this lone Elf. Having passed the walls of the fortress, he boldly headed towards Celegorm and Curufin's halls and upon having jumped down his horse, he hurried to the wooden gates, not bothering to wait for anyone to welcome him. At that point, Fingon was beyond being concerned with protocol and he slammed the doors wide open, startling the servants who had been busy lighting fires in vast chimneys.

"Where are my cousins?" he bellowed, brushing away a few snowflakes caught in his dark hair.

Tall and terrible, he stood in the entrance and clad as he was in a thick woolen cloak, fox furs wrapped across his shoulders, he cared not for the cold wind that gushed inside the halls, threatening the feeble flames that had just been rising in the main hearth.

"Our masters are in their chambers, my Lord," said one of the servants, who had recognized him and had bowed deeply. "I shall go tell them you arrived, my Lord," he added, shrinking as Fingon glowered down at him.

The servant quickly walked away to his masters' quarters, leaving behind his poor colleague alone to face Fingon.

"And you, will you not help me take my cloak off and fetch me some hot beverage?" asked the Noldorin prince, briskly.

"At once, my Lord," mumbled the second servant, obeying diligently.

Fingon took a few steps towards one of the chimneys, seeking some warmth, but all he really dreamed of was to go back on his horse as soon as possible – he needed to go look for her, wherever she could have gone. He was still quite moody when another servant came to him, suggesting very courteously that he should wait for Celegorm and Curufin in a sitting room, but he complied nonetheless. They probably did not want him to remain in the main hall too long, as he had managed to scare everyone away within minutes and that had disturbed their quiet morning routine.

* * *

Fingon was pacing around the room, stopping from time to time by the window to check if the weather had improved - not at all, the gentle snowfall was turning into blizzard. The hot wine that had been brought to him with great care had been already forgotten, on the table where it had been put, along with a plate of food. In the end, he had not even taken his cloak off, thus melted snow had dripped all over the hardwood floor and the thick carpets laying on it. Yet Fingon minded not ruining his cousins' tapestries and he would have happily poured down all the wine on it as well, for thus was his frustration.

He felt the wind was howling within his chest too, and there was nothing he could do to soothe his torments. Cursed be winter, he thought, and cursed the bitter cold of the North! How could he ever hope to find her, in such awful weather conditions? How could he hope for her to be alive? His sister, his dear little sister, had gone missing a fortnight ago, and thus far all had failed to find any traces of her...

"Fingon, you rode fast," Celegorm said, as he entered the room, closely followed by Curufin.

"Not fast enough, I'm afraid."

Gazing at the brothers' faces, it would have been hard to decipher whether they were angry or relieved to see Fingon. Nonetheless, they greeted him in due forms, unimpressed by their cousin's sulky expression.

"The snow might make it near impossible for our hounds to track her, yet it shall not stop us from pursuing our researches," said Curufin, who, of the three, was the less tensed.

Celegorm, like Fingon, severely lacked sleep and these days he was prone to terrible fits of anger that only his brother and his nephew dared deal with. However, no one in his household held him accountable for it, for they knew it was merely the manifestation of his despair, and they pitied him more than they resented him for his awful mood.

"For how long though? Winter is harsh in these regions…"

"A fortnight, at best."

Fingon frowned and quickly inquired, "Do you have any clues as to where we should head first? Would she have tried to ride back to Gondolin perhaps?"

"We ruled out the road to the West, she had not intentions of going back there," answered Curufin, shaking his head.

"How can you be so sure of it?"

"Her friends, they told us," sneered Celegorm, his arms crossed on his chest. "And even though they have proven to be quite useless as of now, I do believe they are right about this. We have also assumed she would not have gone North either, which leaves the East, where Caranthir has been looking for her as well, and the South, the area between rivers Aros and Celon."

"Indeed, it seems quite plausible she would not have ridden back to Gondolin, indeed..." Fingon paused a while, pondering, then he asked, "Who are these friends you mentioned? Should I understand that some of my brother's guards have reached your halls?"

"No, but there were two ladies with her, some... close friends of hers," said Celegorm and he did nothing to hide his disdain.

"I presume you have already questioned them thoroughly."

"We did, but we thought you would want to hear for yourself what they have to say," said Curufin and, considering Fingon's worn attire, he added, "That is… if you are ready."

"Of course, I am."

"Should you not at least take off your cloak, dear cousin?"

"I should, indeed..." Fingon whispered and he finally seemed to realize he was no more outside and that there was no need for his fox furs and leather boots inside of his cousins' halls.

"I understand you would rather be riding in the wild, yet today we would be wasting our time and our strength..." Celegorm told him, grabbing his shoulder in a surprisingly gentle way. "This blizzard will not last long though and soon we shall be heading South."

Fingon nodded, meeting Celegorm's gaze – it mirrored his own uncertainties.

* * *

Aredhel had been traveling with two companions, dear friends she wished not be sundered from and who had agreed to follow her wherever she would lead them. These ladies Fingon was acquainted with already and he was not surprised when Celegorm and Curufin told him their names – he had expected to find at least one of them in Aglon.

Lady Heril was a Noldo whose family had followed lord Fingolfin into exile and she and Aredhel had befriended each other long ago, in Valinor. The two ladies were alike in temper, for they both shared the same love for wilderness, and often they had gone on long wanderings across the Undying Lands. It had only been natural for Heril to be part of Aredhel's escort, out of Gondolin, yet it was strange she had not been with the White Lady the day she had disappeared.

Aredhel's other close friend was lady Giliel, an Elf from the Falas, who was of lord Círdan's kin. This one was different, for she never was restless, and while she did enjoy riding, she had not much taste for hunting. Instead she was fond of more domestic occupations and was a renowned seamstress, excelling at embroidery. Her friendship with Aredhel was sometimes called odd, as they had quite different characters, yet it was exactly the reason they admired each other: Giliel marveled at Aredhel's fierce nature, while Aredhel respected Giliel's tempered wisdom.

These were the two ladies who had last seen Aredhel and their sorrow was great, as they could remember the very moment their friend had left them – forever, it seemed. Fingon greeted lady Heril first, and he noticed that, like it was the case for Celegorm and Curufin, there was something extinct about her, which was truly scary. He had hoped he would be provided with some optimism in Algon, he had hoped they would tell him they had found Aredhel, or that they knew exactly where she had gone, and why… Yet they all looked so stricken and haggard, whatever effort they put into behaving normally, that Fingon felt more and more overwhelmed with his own distress.

"My Lord, it is a great relief to finally see you," said Heril and it was clear she had been waiting for him to come, as if he alone could put an end to this terrible situation.

"I rode as fast as I could…" he muttered, "I am glad to find you both here."

He turned around to face Giliel, nodding briefly at her.

And there it was. When her pale gaze met his, he felt it, this little shock. Time and grief could have weakened such reaction from his part, however it had not. On the contrary, Fingon was aware of her presence more than ever and for a split second, it was as if the two of them were alone in the room. She sparkled, he thought, and it was pleasant to merely look at her, for he welcomed again a secret joy he had he had tasted before. Yet this time it startled him, perhaps because it seems inappropriate to find any sort of delight in her sight while his mind should have been turned towards a single goal, finding his sister. And so, after having cleared his throat, he limited himself to a few common civilities, pushing away any other thoughts, to which Giliel answered with equally prosaic words of greetings.

Then came the time for serious questions and Fingon sat down to ask both ladies to tell him about the last weeks they had spent with his sister. He would have liked to be able to maintain a cool composure, yet he could not help but twist his hands nervously as he listened to what Heril and Giliel had to say – what if they were about to reveal some terrible secrets about Aredhel?

"As you may already know, my Lord, when Aredhel decided we would come here, in Aglon, instead of going to Hithlum, we first tried to pass through Doriath, bidding the Doriathrim to let us enter their woods," said Heril, who spoke first. "Such access was however denied to us and we had to resolve ourselves to cross Nan Dungortheb despite the dreadful creatures lurking there. That was where Aredhel, Giliel and I were separated from the others, due to a mist so thick that we barely could see our own horses' ears. It was some unnatural phenomenon if you ask me…"

"And those brave Gondolindrim lords did not bother looking for you very long, did they? I say, they were rather quick to go back to their hidden city," muttered Celegorm loud enough for everyone to hear him. "What a worthy escort Aredhel was given…"

"I see no reasons we should not believe that lord Echtelion has done his best to find the princess at the time", replied lady Heril, through clenched teeth. "He surely spared no efforts to accomplish the mission the King had trust him with and if he has failed, then surely none could have done better."

It was clear these two had gone over this argument a few times already and that they probably would not mind fighting over it once more, but Fingon's presence helped them to keep some decorum – they did glare at each other for a few seconds nonetheless.

"I am convinced lord Echtelion did everything in his power to track Aredhel, but Nan Dungortheb is a dark land where the dreadful children of Ungoliant crawl everywhere and he might have had some troubles of his own to deal with, back then," said Fingon, who had no doubt concerning Ecthelion's bravery.

"Alas, we have yet to receive tidings from him or any of the Gondolindrim who rode with us," sighed Heril and after a small pause, she resumed her story, "After having crossed the river Aros, Aredhel, Giliel and I eventually reached these halls where we were welcomed by lord Celebrimbor and thus we thought we were safe, at last."

"When was that?"

"A month ago, my Lord. Upon our arrival, we were told lord Celegorm and lord Curufin were away, hunting, but we could rest here while waiting for them and that was quite enough to satisfy us at the time. It never occurred to me that… Oh, well, Aredhel, she... she was so happy to be out of Gondolin... Not that she was miserable dwelling there, yet she yearned ever for vast lands, great forests, rivers and... such things. Thus, barely a few days had passed before she became restless once more and she wished not to remain idle while her cousins were gone."

So far Heril's tale did not bring anything new to what Fingon had already been told, but he somehow needed to hear it again, from an actual witness of the events.

"Did you not accompany her, on her wanderings?" he inquired.

"We did at first, but every time she wanted to ride farther than the previous day and she became daring, overlooking dangers such as Orcs and other foul enemies from the North. She even mocked us for warning her about it, calling us 'soft little ladies'... Then the weather became colder, oft it would snow on mornings and we did our best to convince Aredhel it would be wiser to wait for lord Celegorm and lord Curufin's return before undertaking any other travel. And for a while, she listened to us, but for a while only..."

Lady Heril, lowering her face, began shedding tears and Giliel took one of her hands in hers, in a vain attempt to comfort her. Standing by the hearth, Curufin gestured at one of the servants who came back quickly, carrying a handkerchief and a hot beverage, while Celegorm was staring at the snow through the window, oblivious of what was going on in the room – or so it seemed.

Fingon would have liked to come up with a few hopeful words, but he found he was too weary himself to be of any use with this sort of things – and it'd feel like he would be lying. He simply waited, till Giliel took upon herself to tell him about the last time she and Heril had seen Aredhel.

"One day, Aredhel and lord Celebrimbor argued during dinner over some silly matter, something that should have not caused such a stir," Giliel told Fingon, as she was patiently wiping away the tears from Heril's eyes. "In retrospective, I would say that we all failed to notice how much Aredhel was longing to travel throughout Beleriand, how frustrated she felt. Since her desire to wander was still unfulfilled, it made her rather… upset at times and that day her anger blew up suddenly. I… I believed I had managed to reason her, to calm her down, and she did apologize to lord Celebrimbor before retiring to her chambers. However next morning we realized she was gone… she had left before dawn. No one had seen her leave the fortress, not even the squires or the guards, and since then, we have sought her, vainly…"

A heavy silence fell in the room and everyone was carefully avoiding looking at Fingon. He felt devastated, even more than on the stormy day a messenger had arrived in Hithlum, carrying the awful tidings about his sister's disappearance.

"Were there places she had taken a liking to, in this area?" Fingon finally managed to ask, with great effort. "Anywhere she would have gone to first…?"

"We traveled to most of these places already, my Lord, but there was nothing there for us to find, I'm afraid," said Giliel, in a sympathetic tone.

She was afflicted by her friend's loss, yet she felt sorrier for Fingon than for herself, and she wished she could have given him something to hope for, somehow.

But now that he was in Aglon, Fingon could no more fool himself into thinking that Aredhel would reappear soon or that Celegorm and Curufin had simply not known where to look for. What more could he do than the Fëanorians, who knew their lands so thoroughly? What could he sense that Huan, the hound of Valinor, could not? What could he guess about Aredhel's behavior that her friends had not already understood?

"Our eyesight is keen, Fingon, and our hounds are the best of all Beleriand," Celegorm said, still gazing at the snowflakes. "Trust me, it is only a matter of time before we find her."

"Indeed…" whispered Fingon, somberly.

There was one question Fingon had not yet dared to ask, though. Celegorm and Curufin had ruled out the North during their searches, deeming that even Aredhel was not reckless enough to venture there alone. Yet what if she had been brought there forcefully? What if Orcs had crossed her path? Surely Celegorm and Curufin would have known, had there been Orc skirmishes nearby Aglon, would have they not?

He'd ask later, he decided. For the moment, he wanted to be left alone to ponder, and he needed maps, plans and hope – a lot of hope.

* * *

I don't especially ship Aredhel/Celegorm (I've always wondered why Tolkien specified that Aredhel did not marry any of the Fëanorians, could it have even happened? Aren't they too closely related or are half-cousins alright?) or Aredhel/Eöl, but I do believe Celegorm loved her especially whether it was platonic or not.


	2. Ready

A bit shorter than I had planned, but then it never exactly goes as planned :) It's taking me longer to update, but the good thing about it is that it leaves me more time to really think about the characters feelings. There's so much of it T.T

(again, a very lame title, sorry)

* * *

 **Chapter 2 - Ready**

Fingon's first night in Aglon was awfully long and he barely got any rest. However, he did find some solace in being alone in his chambers, for he needed not aymore to put on a brave face in front of his cousins and Aredhel's friends. Dinner had been horrible: an endless succession of laborious conversations, for the most part revolving around trivial matters that everyone pretended to have great interest in. Truly, it had been a relief when it had ended at last – the guests had scattered quickly. Yet if Fingon was glad not to have to talk any longer, he was a little annoyed not to have anything to do.

He had sat on the bare floor, by the chimney, and in front of him he had spread a map of the area at which he was staring intently, as if it was about to speak and tell him where his sister was. He had come in these lands before, on his way to visit Maedhros, but he seemed not able to recall anything useful from these previous travels. After all, back then, he had been mostly preoccupied with deer, boars, and other wild animals he had been hunting with his cousins. But now, as his forefinger was tracing down rivers on the yellowish paper, he wished he'd know where every single tree stood and where every bird lived throughout all Beleriand.

It was only well after midnight that Fingon fell asleep, on the bed that he had not bothered to undo. He rested for a few short hours, troubled by his dreams, and when morning came he was not unhappy to wake up. It happened often these days that his mother would appear to him during his sleep, as if his mind was summoning her in these terrible times, and always he found himself promising lady Anairë that he would bring back Aredhel safe to her. Vain words they were, and he was well aware of it, and he also feared that, across the Great Sea, in the Immortal Lands, his mother somehow knew her daughter had gone missing.

Fingon shook these gloomy thoughts away and, rising, he noticed the weather had improved outside. The sky had cleared up during the night and, although snow covered the grounds, there was less of it than expected – not enough to stop him anyways.

* * *

In the main hall, he found Curufin, along with his son Celebrimbor, and both were discussing in low voices, interrupting themselves when they saw Fingon coming to them. Before he could say anything about the blue sky, Celebrimbor jumped from his seat, startled, and his face was tensed when his gaze met Fingon's.

"Please forgive me for not having been there to welcome you yesterday, Fingon, for I was away on the wall and did not know you were to arrive so soon," he said at once without catching his breath. "I presume you have already been told I… I was there when…"

"Indeed, I have heard as much," Fingon cut in. He had a good notion of what Celebrimbor was about to say and he would have rather avoided such a cumbersome conversation, thus he added promptly, "Lady Heril and lady Giliel have already given me quite an in-depth account of the events that preceded my sister's disappearance… And, well, this is not why I wish to speak to you and your father right now."

And with a careless gesture of the hand, he discarded any objection coming from Celebrimbor and instead he turned to Curufin. The latter, slightly crossed, inquired:

"And what it is that you want to say, Fingon?"

"Snow falls no more on your lands, there is no reason to delay our expedition any longer."

"Shall we not wait for your companions to reach our halls before leaving?" wondered Curufin, raising an eyebrow. "Surely they should arrive within a day or two, should they not?"

"No time for that," said Fingon sternly.

A dry laughter escaped through Curufin's lips. "Such a predictable answer, dear cousin… As it happens, Celegorm is already in the stables, supervising the preparations of our excursion and, in all likelihood, I believe it is he who thinks you are the one dragging us late."

"Is that so?" Fingon frowned.

"Yes, perhaps you should go join him," suggested Curufin, slyly. "For my part, I would rather not be around him till everything is settled, for he tends to be irritable when things don't go as he plans."

"I suppose we all react differently when tragedy strikes…" muttered Fingon, shrugging, although he thought Celegorm had always possessed a rather difficult character.

"It does not bring out the best of us, does it?"

Curufin seemed a little too insolent for Fingon's taste, but he knew it was his way to cope with the events – the more his oily smile spread on his face, the harsher was the pain, deep down. And, truthfully, Fingon's mood was sour and he had to admit he was not very pleasant to be around these days. Perhaps his men had been relieved, when he had decided to leave them behind and hurry to the Pass of Aglon.

"I will head to the stables, then," said Fingon, nodding to Curufin.

Before he left the hall, he shot a look at Celebrimbor, who had remained silent, even though a light blush covered his cheeks – was it anger or embarrassment, it would have been hard to decipher. Either ways, Fingon could not help but feel a tinge of guilt for having been so rude with him earlier, but he quickly discarded this feeling. There was no reason for him to go through yet another account of sister's last moments in Aglon and whatever distress was tormenting Celebrimbor, it was not in his power to appease him. In this dark times, to each his own burdens to carry…

* * *

In the corridor, he saw her walking ahead of him and for a moment, he was lost in contemplation, admiring the soft shimmering of her blonde curls. Immediately, it brought back sweet memories to his mind, smell of fresh grass and wild flowers, sounds of distant laughter and music… and the glow of the Moon on the pool's smooth surface. Ah, it did happen sometimes that he would lose himself in these reminiscences, on some sunny days of summer, and then he would wonder how she faring in Gondolin, locked away from the rest of Beleriand. Yet this time, his reverie did not last long, for a gush of cold wind pinched him back to reality, and he noticed she was clad in travel clothes.

Hurrying after her, he inquired:

"Giliel, will you be joining with us?"

Hearing his voice, she spun around and perhaps she was a little startled. Only her eyes gave away some of her emotion, and she was careful not to hold his gaze too long. "There are very few of us, it would be foolish to stay behind," she said, a hint of bitterness in her tone. "Although, I'm afraid I might not be of great use… I know not these lands and I rarely hunt."

"I reckon the situation is especially tricky, since we do not have the slightest clue as to where she could be," said Fingon, heaving a sigh. "And I do find this notion rather upsetting, considering Celegorm and Curufin's admirable skills at tracking… Even Huan, the Hound of Valinor, has failed to find any traces of her so far."

"My Lord, you have not lost all hope, have you?"

"No, I haven't…" he whispered.

Truth be told, there was little left of it, yet it was still enough for him to hold onto, desperately. And he had this foolish idea, in the back of his head, and he believed he would know… Yes, he believed he would surely feel it, had his little sister… had she…

As he stood still, Giliel's fingers brushed the back of his hand, lingering on his skin for a few seconds. Fingon was staring down at her, in expectation, and for a brief moment, his eyes conveyed all his thoughts – angst, restlessness and yearning. He would have been ashamed of himself, had it lasted longer, but she quickly recollected herself.

"You should make haste, lord Celegorm has long been waiting to depart," she said, clasping her hands together. "I overheard some servants saying he spent the night in the stables."

"Has he? Then by now in what foul mood must he be," said Fingon and he allowed himself one small chuckle - at least it was comforting to know someone was as anxious as he was to get going.

"We shall all feel better once we are outside of these walls."

"Indeed, we need fresh air." _We might be hit by blizzard again though_ , he reflected.

In the courtyard, they parted in silence, exchanging a brief glance. Fingon headed to the stables, resolved to face Celegorm and his wrath, while Giliel leaned against a pillar, petting absentmindedly hounds that had gathered around her. She watched him stride away and although her face was perfectly impassible, she was overwhelmed with fondness and sympathy for him, to the point that it hurt. She would have done anything to soothe his sorrows, anything to save Aredhel… yet what could she do, what powers did she possess that would aid them?

Once, she had been happy the Noldor had come to Beleriand. It had been easy then to overlook the exile and the Doom, for she had made precious friends among these people, and she had met him too. Perhaps she would have never known love, had the Noldor stayed in Valinor, however it would have also meant that Aredhel would have never disappeared and that her brother would never have had to grieve for her. Ever since she was gone, Giliel wished they had never come to Beleriand, that they had never left the blissful land of Aman... that they had never known the pain and sufferings of those who opposed the Dark Lord.

* * *

In the stables, the atmosphere was that of a beehive. Dozens of Elves were busying themselves, carrying equipment and grooming horses, and everything they did, they did it swiftly. Somewhere among this, Celegorm was ordering the squires around, his powerful voice echoing in every stall, and as he was himself checking the horses' harnesses, Huan trailed him closely. Fingon had to navigate through all of it, dodging people and animals alike, in order to reach his cousin.

"Fingon, at last!" Celegorm said, granting him an annoyed look. "I thought you would never wake up… were your dreams so enjoyable?"

"Is everything set?" Fingon inquired, eluding the taunting.

At this point, he and Celegorm were both equally exasperated, but Fingon felt there was no need to pettish – although he was wondering how long he would be able to bear his cousin's bad mood without snapping back at him.

"It is and we should be able to depart within the hour," Celegorm replied, while the nearest horse, a tall black creature, was gently nibbling his cloak. "That is, if all the members of our little party deign showing up in time."

"I saw Lady Heril and lady Giliel in the courtyard just a few moments ago."

"I was not referring to them," said Celegorm, curtly. "Curufin thinks Celebrimbor should stay here, in case Maedhros and Maglor would come to help and also in case… in case she were to return while we are away."

"Are not your brothers on their way already?"

Fingon had hoped he would find Maedhros in Aglon and he still was disappointed his friend was not here, for they could have used more people for the searches and he could have used a bit of comfort.

"Up in the mountains, the winds blow stronger than here and heavy snow has been blocking the roads for a while," Celegorm explained, frowning. "It might take them a whole week to reach Aglon and, even though we are in dire need of more aid, I refuse to delay our expedition any longer…"

A week had passed since he and Curufin had been back from their first trip throughout their lands, looking for Aredhel. They had sent scouts in all directions, of course, and Amrod and Amras had scoured their fief, however Celegorm firmly believed only he and Huan could succeed in finding his dear cousin – something silly he barely admitted to himself.

"This is unfortunate," muttered Fingon, crossing his arms across his chest.

"Indeed, and that is why I insisted Celebrimbor should come with us. We lack no great captains who could oversee the fort in our absence and my nephew has a keener sight than most. I would rather have him with me than leave him behind, surveying the walls."

Fingon nodded. "And where exactly shall we head? Yesterday you talked about the South, yet you gave no further details about our destination."

"Destination… Our only destination is Aredhel herself," whispered Celegorm somberly, and then he added, "it seems more likely she would have gone somewhere nearby Nan Elmoth… for all I know, she may have met some of her old acquaintances and has decided to follow them…"

"Could she have gone into Nan Elmoth itself?" asked Fingon, hopefully.

"It is a fiefdom of King Thingol, thus the Elves dwelling in these woods have got no fondness for the Noldor," Celegorm shrugged and he exchanged a glance with Huan. "I doubt they would have welcomed one of us among them, however charming your sister may be."

"And what of Doriath? What if she had entered the girdle of Melian, unknowingly?"

"We sent messengers there and the Sindar have she had not been sighted in their woods… Their Marchwardens would have noticed her, had she crossed their borders, although I do wonder if we can rely on their words."

"They have no reason to lie about this," Fingon told his cousin, shrugging.

"I suppose not," said Celegorm, his tone dripping with disdain.

"Celegorm, have you… have you considered she could have encountered Orcs…?" Fingon said, cautiously. "Has there been reports of skirmishes lately…?

He was eyeing his cousin, ready to deal with a terrible outburst of anger.

"None of these cursed creatures could have entered our lands!" retorted Celegorm, briskly.

"Yet it may have– "

"Are you telling me we cannot keep a decent watch on the Enemy?"

"It is certainly not what I intended to say," replied Fingon, feeling he was losing patience quickly, "but Nan Dungortheb is not far from here and– "

"She is lost, Fingon, _lost_! We are not searching for a body, we are looking for Aredhel! You heard me, Aredhel, safe and sound!" Celegorm burst out.

His yells had been so loud, it scared a few of the younger horses and made the squires speed up the preparations, as if they were not rushing already. Yet Fingon was not impressed and he stood straight in front of his cousin staring at him right in the eyes.

"While we should not let despair dishearten us, we would be wiser to avoid disillusionment as well," he said coldly.

"You're ever so rational, son of Fingolfin," Celegorm sneered.

Fingon heaved a sigh and he was about to say they had to brace themselves for the worst, whether they liked it or not, but Curufin entered the stables at that very moment and, sensing a quarrel was in the making, he exclaimed:

"Well, what do we have we here! While I am convinced you two could keep on bickering all day, I do believe it is about time we depart. The horses and the hounds are restless, and so am I."

"I thought you were too busy antagonizing your own son to bother joining us, dear brother," countered Celegorm, his eyes flashing with anger.

"Celebrimbor and I settled that matter and he shall come with us, but thank you for worrying about it, brother" said Curufin, an oily smile spreading on his face.

"Then, let us leave," announced Celegorm, as most of the horses had been lead out of the stables and into the courtyard. "And, Fingon, do remember we are on our way to find a _missing person_."

"Oh, do not blind yourself, Celegorm, however hard you wish for her to be alive, your will only won't be enough to save her."

Ill temper had turned Fingon into someone rather pessimistic and as soon as these words had escaped his mouth, he regretted it – he feared it was a bad omen.

"She is your sister! How can you…?" breathed Celegorm, genuinely taken aback.

"I am merely being realistic, after all long are gone those days when we dwelled in evergreen Valinor," Fingon said, too proud to admit he had done wrong. "You may have forgotten it, yet Beleriand is a dangerous place."

"Will you please put an end to this!" intervened Curufin, in a loud voice. "It is painful enough not to know where Aredhel has gone, there is no need to argue between us! Do behave yourselves, and I would appreciate it if, from now on, you could focus your energy solely on our expedition!"

Neither Fingon nor Celegorm were truly calmed down by Curufin's words yet they remained silent, having decided to ignore each other for the time being. Celegorm stormed out the stables first, followed by Huan, and Fingon came second, brooding a little.

"Fingon," said Curufin, grabbing his arm before they reached the horses.

"What now?"

"Please, do try to understand him. He has always loved her very much…"

"Does it grant him the right to be so obnoxious towards every unfortunate beings that cross his path?"

"I have to concede that is rather… painful to be around him these, however he suffers greatly."

"So do I! So do you, I assume!"

"Fingon, please…" said Curufin and his gaze was full of sadness.

"Alright, alright, I shall do my best to keep calm."

He doubted 'his best' would last long, but there was no need to tell Curufin that.

* * *

In the courtyard, stood about a dozen of Elves, the finest hunters among Celegorm and Curufin's people. Clad in brown and gray outfits, they had formed a line, each of them holding a horse by the bridle, and all were waiting for their lords' signal to depart. There were also Heril and Giliel who seemed quite weary, but determined, and Celebrimbor, pale and anxious, who glanced at his father every now and then. Curufin and Fingon, stern and motionless beside their mounts, were both gazing at the white sky and although they were unaware of it, their thoughts were alike in this moment – they hoped snow would not disturb their expedition.

The gates had been opened, hounds were barking, eager to run, and Celegorm, fair and fierce, finally gave the order to leave. Passing the walls of the fortress, his gaze fell on Huan, the Hound of Valinor, who strode ahead of him – surely the hunting dog of Oromë himself would be able to find her, would he not? Ought he not be more confident with such a powerful ally by his side?

Yet he was still assailed with doubts and, deep down, he was worried Fingon had been right.

Maybe they would find a corpse.

* * *

To be honest, I had first meant to include Maedhros in the story, but I find it more interesting to focus on Celegorm and Curufin vs Fingon. Also Fingon wouldn't be in such a bad mood, would Maedhros be there!


End file.
